The Art of Patience
by InLoveWithDraco13
Summary: Draco recalls the years he's spent observing Hermione Granger's love life, until he finally runs out of patience. HG/DM. "Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet"- Jean-Jacques Rousseau


**Hello Darlings,**

**Hoping you're all well. Here's a fun little one-shot from Draco's perspective. I don't usually write from his POV, but I was feeling a bit impatient and perhaps arrogant. So here you are.**

**M. x**

Draco Malfoy was not what one would call a patient man.

In fact, he suffered from the extreme contrast of that such thing for most of his life. It could have been due to the fact that he was disgustingly spoiled as a child. It could have been his 'dive in head first' nature. It could have been that he'd never been denied anything he wanted. Well, that might not be completely true.

However, it was indisputable that he was full of confidence, which some might deem arrogance, but at the end of the day it was all the bloody same. People would call him what they would. It was out of his control, as so many things had been since the end of the war.

They might also claim that he was different now. _Better._

Successful? Most definitely.

Redeemed? That was left to be discovered, as well as continually remarked upon.

But as to the amount of thought the Malfoy heir put into such things, no one could tell for sure.

His focus, besides that of his prestigious position as the top Auror on the MLE squad for the last five years, was on his partner. The unstoppable force that sparked fire in his veins. The powerful fury, lust, amusement, intelligence and thought said partner could provoke in him. It was slowly but surely driving him to madness.

So how could one possibly expect him to be patient? Especially here and now.

He wasn't exactly,_ positively_, sure of when this miraculous discovery fell upon him, but all the same, it hit him like a sun burning out in flames through an onyx sky.

He was in love with Hermione Granger. Dangerously so.

He hated her for years.

Or rather, hated what she was. After the war, he came to the astounding conclusion that he had not actually known what she was. In fact, he knew nothing at all. So he set out on a mission to bring himself back the wealth, power and admiration he'd owned before his father attempted to destroy his life. A Malfoy could not exist without such things.

But love? That had never been accounted for. Never expected or anticipated after the years and years of conditioning that was built into his brain. Tragedy and loss had done a number on his psyche, torture and madness banished the Pureblood ways from his mind forever. And once he'd been stripped bare, for the entire world to inspect, with none of his riches or powers or even a name to hide behind, that was when Draco Malfoy began to see.

And if he needed anything clearer than Harry Potter giving him a chance to fight on the right side, it was the perks that came along with the job: _her_.

His partner. Fucking Granger.

She had no clue. No possible clue that he was nearing painful obsession.

He spent years perfecting a cool disdain, but anytime she was in his sight, his body filled with uncontrollable heat and yearning. He picked fights with her on a daily basis, he couldn't help it—anything to see her look at him with passion, even if it was passionate loathing for the first couple of years.

Now it was sometimes flirty amusement, other times weary tension…he couldn't ever quite pinpoint her moods, but he loved the change, the constant turbulence that she provided. It was an escape from his viciously dark thoughts and demons. She was the most beautifully, mind-numbing distraction. But she didn't know, beneath all his snarky comments, wicked smirks and seething sneers, there was an iced-over heart that was beginning to chip.

He remembered the first crack as if it were yesterday. Still, at the time he'd been an ignorant, little sop, but it was the first moment he noticed Granger was a woman.

The Yule Ball— he was anything but patient that evening, he'd wanted nothing more than to remove Pansy's claws from him, sneak into the kitchens and get absolutely plastered with his mates. Everything had gone according to plan, with only one glitch; Hermione Granger looked like a fucking princess that night. Something the pureblood women of his society could not come close to touching, even with all their gold and glory. Granger was pure, untainted by the filth that covered women like Pansy, whose minds were wasted with greed and status.

He remembered staring at her relentlessly— unable to look away from the light he would never be able to touch. Furious with the thought, his plan commenced and he got drunker than Dionysus. But even that, could not banish Granger from his brain, the image of her coming down those stairs, down to him, into the darkness…it wasn't until much later in the evening, after he got blasted enough to ignore the guilt of his traitorous thoughts, that Draco found himself wandering the dungeons aimlessly, and came upon the very thing he was trying to forget.

Her hair was no longer smooth and twisted up elegantly. The glaringly obviously reason was that Viktor Krum had her up against the wall and was running his hands through her glorious curls. Draco remembered feeling furious at the injustice. That this International Quidditch Star was allowed to want her and touch her, yet he, a wizard from one of the oldest and most powerful families in existence, could not…

His fists clenched as he watched them, knowing it would be a mistake to initiate any sort of confrontation. But somewhere in his mind, Draco knew this was wrong. And he hated himself for that weakness. But then, by some miracle, just as Krum was slipping the soft silk of the dress off her shoulder and Draco was biting his knuckles with little restraint, she pulled away, smiling and bidding the Bulgarian a soft' goodnight'.

Draco fought delirious laughter in that moment—heartily rejoicing that Granger didn't want this flat-footed brute. No of course she didn't, he smirked at the triumph he felt at her dismissal of Krum. Though his brain was too young and much too stupid to realize in that moment, what those feelings he so easily discarded, had meant.

They hadn't resurfaced again until the following year. Though in the time leading up to this occurrence, he'd made it a point to try to keep her off his radar.

It wasn't until he made the ridiculous mistake of visiting the library after hours for a quick hook up with Pansy...

As Draco had wandered through the empty stacks that night, he caught voices and flickering candlelight from down the last corridor. Slowly, he made his way forward through the muted darkness, frowning with suspicion. He came around the corner silently, not wanting to alert his prey. Draco's eyes widened in confirmation as he felt the thick, sickly glob of 'feelings' drop into the pit of his stomach— this was followed quickly by the recognition of anger, spite and something else that felt entirely too close to envy.

Of course she was here. And of course, she was with him.

Theodore Nott: another brainiac who suffered from addiction to schoolwork. Two perfect little prefects. No doubt they had special permission to be here, seeing as they never left the bloody place.

Draco listened longer than he cared to admit to their comfortable conversation, hating the way Theo made her laugh—her face never relaxed around him like that. _Not that he wanted it to,_ he thought with an evil smirk. He lived to see Granger furious. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was just something so satisfying in the way he could make her lose her mind. Set her ire on fire.

Draco thought he heard Pansy approaching, but he was stuck to the floor as he watched Theo reach out and carefully brush one of Granger's fallen curls back from her face. They stared at one another curiously. Draco held his breath, wanting nothing more than to blast every book off the shelf with a single fucking spell. But he didn't, instead he told himself it was none of his fucking business who Granger kissed, even if the guy she was going to swap spit with was pathetic and pompous and would eventually bore her to death with his remarkable lack of wit.

But apparently, Theo had taken too long to make a decision, and so Granger dropped her head back down to her books, which were clearly more interesting.

Draco's smirk, was not really a smirk, it was more of a grin. A shit-eating one.

Theo, the dumb wanker, he could never keep up with someone like her. Maybe in school, but in life? He couldn't cut it for a fucking second. Draco felt the tension leave his chest, hardly aware that he'd stopped breathing for almost a full minute. But it was nothing, he told himself, it was just the anticipation of watching Theo sully himself with _her_. That was all.

He left the library moments later, no longer interested in the shag he would have gladly taken only ten minutes before.

Granger spoiled it.

Another year passed, but now circumstances were so incredibly different. Draco had absolutely no time to worry about who might be pursing the 'bane of his existence'. His priorities had shifted under the weight of his task, and the cost of his failure. Yet still, when he lay awake at night filled with anxiety and dread, he would see her face swimming before him.

He would do anything to banish her.

He drowned deeper into depression, but looking in her eyes always reminded him that he was stronger. At the time, he took this as a sign that he was superior and that seeing her, or fighting with her, was a return to the normalcy he was craving in those dark days.

Now, he knew better. He knew it was her courage and her determination and her ability to never give up which inspired him to keep going, even if it _was_ in the completely wrong direction.

That might have been when his obsession began, but at the time it was dark and twisted. He could only hate how she made him feel, and not understand his own self-awareness as well as the meaning of those feelings she inspired in him. There were other Muggle-born students he could torment, but it was always Granger. It _always_ came back to her.

And there she had been that winter night, dressed in gold like some ethereal creature and absolutely refusing the advances of that swaggering Quaffle-head, Cormac McLaggen. Draco helped himself to one pleased smirk as he was escorted from Slughorn's party, none too gently by Snape. He would take the bullshit that would come along with his rash choices— it was worth it really, just to see Granger reject that pompous, overstuffed meathead. But he didn't care. It was just that he wanted to see her suffer, _alone_. She deserved to be alone. That was a reoccurring, sick thought he forced himself to repeat, even as he truly began to question the life he was living and the outcome that his actions would have.

And that was the last. The last time he pretended that Hermione Granger's life didn't matter.

It could have been her torture at the hands of his Aunt. It could have been the miraculous achievement of her contribution to end the war. Or maybe it was the fact that now every time he looked at her, he saw a woman worth fighting for. A woman, who could never, ever forgive him, let alone accept him, let alone…he stopped those thoughts right there and turned himself away from Granger to begin the slow assent to becoming a better person.

It was a long and grueling process. He had to eat shit from Potter, but mostly Weasley. Though he did it, managed to get through training with only one broken nose and three cracked ribs, and eventually won himself a spot in the Auror department.

He could breathe now. The Wizarding world was finally willing to offer him a place back into society. Draco was so relieved at the prospect of being given a chance to shed his father's shadow, and it was Harry Potter who thought Granger would be the best person to keep him in line.

If Draco had any sort of compassion towards Potter, this act might earn the man his enduring gratitude. That was not the case.

But damn was he thrilled to be right where he wanted to be, at Hermione Granger's side. Of course, this meant he had someone intelligent to converse with, besides his mother, and the moment they began to bicker, he felt more like himself than he had in years. She provided him with nostalgia of simpler times. This also earned him points towards rebuilding his reputation, he convinced himself. To be seen with the Golden Girl would cut his penance time in half with the rest of their colleagues.

They fell into an uncomfortable relationship— their harsh words of the past now falling into a category that some might call vicious flirting, or unresolved sexual tension to the extreme. But there was always a wall up on both of their fronts. One cemented with uncertainty and attraction. Draco could not muck it up. He could also not admit that he didn't _want_ to muck it up.

He was being a coward.

She looked at him expectantly sometimes, like she could suddenly read his mind. It unnerved him, so Draco continued to keep himself thoroughly fortified.

Over those three years, only three times did Draco come close to losing said patience he never knew he had. He supposed the war had changed him, forced him to show a little restraint. But where Granger was concerned, all bets were apparently off. He couldn't control the possessiveness he felt when it came to her.

Yes sure, she dated over the years, here and there…it was nothing he ever bothered himself with, for he dated casually as well. Well, more like got drunk, got shagged and moved on. He met most of Granger's dates, because she only ever brought them to Ministry functions, otherwise she was too busy working to even consider taking time off for such frivolous behavior. Maybe it was Draco's exceeding arrogance that convinced him Granger never seemed to show much interest in the insipid men she chose to keep company with. How could she not see what a mistake she was making by wasting all her time with these fops?

About a year after he started in the department, there had been one spectacular Ministry Christmas party Draco would never, ever, forget. Granger had gone alone to that particular gathering. She'd been removed, and clearly not at all interested in pursuing any gentleman company that evening. Draco had kept his distance—back in their early days, there were still quite a few fighting words they'd not yet gotten out.

But oh what a lovely night it had been.

Drunkenly and close to midnight, Ronald Weasley decided it was the perfect moment to loudly and most embarrassingly, drag Granger out onto the dance floor and profess his undying love for her. Of course, Draco only felt the smallest, most tiniest split second of dread, but it was gone the moment Granger's eyes turned dark and Weasley tried to maul her with his lips. She shoved him back as he lost his footing and landed in a ball of tangled, flailing limbs. Draco had shouted with laughter, earning him a nasty glare from Granger and a black eye from Weasley.

After another year of Draco fighting his damnedest to deny his feelings, his best mate, Zabini finished his Auror training. This immensely improved Draco's mood, as he would now have someone on his side to team up with against Potter and Weasel—as well as a blessed distraction from wanting to get his hands all over Granger. He knew his need was becoming too great. It was most unfortunate that Blaise had the exact same thought pattern as Draco.

"She's fucking smoking, mate. I've_ got_ to get a piece of that."

Draco bit his tongue until it bled. He spent hours imagining all the ways he would destroy his best friend if he managed to have his way with her. He blamed Granger. It was not natural, this feeling she evoked in him. He was beginning to believe he was cursed, that he would never be free of her.

It was quite perfect that Zabini attempted to charm the Gryffindor Princess into a date on the first day of her period that month. Draco knew it to be so because she always came into the office with chocolate for breakfast and crisps for lunch. She also had absolutely no interest in engaging with his attempts to infuriate her, at least not with words. If he managed to keep his mouth shut, then he didn't get hexed. And he got hexed quite often.

But there was no need for him to incite her wrath that day, because Zabini did it all on his own, and by the time Granger had sliced and diced him with her frosty English vocabulary, Zabini was looking at Draco with sympathy—most sorry he had to share an office with the shrew. Draco's face took on a gaze of solemn solidarity, as he nodded his friend out. Inside, his heart was humming a wild beat of victory. He smirked to himself and looked down at the report he was working on as she stomped off in search of a quill.

Who was it she wanted? Draco was sure, that if Granger were going to consider anyone out of all the men who threw themselves at her, surely it would have been Blaise. He was rich and influential, but always stayed on the right side of things. He was morally aligned with Granger, quite intelligent and also very handsome.

But no, he should have known better. Granger didn't care about most of those things. Maybe she was only attracted to work. He sighed to himself. Or maybe…she was just as fucked as him. He sure hoped so. But he couldn't imagine her wanting him, not like he did her. Sure, she enjoyed their discourse, laughed at his quips and certainly trusted him with her life— after all, they'd been on missions where they'd been forced to realize how deep their bond now actually went.

But still, he could not read her. Only when she was worked up, furious or overly emotional could he see the passion he wanted as his own. He was beginning to crave it like the worst sort of drug.

And then chaos hit.

Only three months before the present time, the impossible happened. Ginny Weasley up and left Harry Potter. Draco laughed about it for quite sometime, though after he realized the position this would force Granger into, he sobered almost instantly.

Suddenly, she was nowhere to be seen. All of her time went into rehabilitating the heart of the Chosen One. Draco was shocked, speechless that he had not seen this bullshit coming! Oh wasn't that just like Potter, he had to have it all, didn't he? And though the short amount of times Draco did spend with Granger, he noticed she seemed much more worried than lovesick.

He thought about asking her. Her look of shock at his presumption would be worth knowing if she was fucking Scar head or not. The thought of imagining it was so much worse. And just when Draco thought he would go insane from the lack of knowledge, Hermione came bursting into the office, absolutely appalled and looking for someone to vent to.

He sat most patiently, listening to her account of Potter's moment of delusion when he tried to kiss her in a haze of heartbreak and loneliness. Draco closed his eyes, knowing this was the moment. Just when he felt like he might have redeemed himself enough, when he might actually have a chance…she was going to tell him she was in love with his greatest rival.

"I slapped him silly, of course. It has nothing to do with _me_. Merlin, he's like a brother, I don't know what he was thinking. I'm sure he's going to be very embarrassed when he comes to his senses."

Draco did smile then. Not because another man had fallen to the curse that Granger inspired, but because she looked so adorably ruffled in that moment. She pierced him with a confused stare and he realized he was looking at her probably the same way Potter had. He cleared his throat and forced a frown.

"Complete. Tosser."

And still, even in the silence that followed his statement, it felt as if she might be expecting more. And once again, Draco knew he had a choice. He knew this was the moment.

She didn't want Harry Potter. She was telling him she didn't. And so what did that mean? That no man was good enough?

How could she want him? How was it he was so arrogant and self-assured when it came to everything else in his life, but with Granger, he'd lose his thoughts and drown in her eyes. He was nothing to her. Could never be anything but a reminder of the past—all of the mistakes he still beat himself up for…even though she'd forgiven him.

And so maybe it had nothing at all to do with patience. No, maybe it was fear that kept him at bay, fear which allowed him to watch Hermione Granger all these years and know deep in his soul that he did not deserve her. And Draco Malfoy was rapidly coming to the conclusion that nothing could ever change that.

But here, in this moment, he would no longer fear— he could not possibly chance it. He had already wasted so much time almost losing her to lesser men, and now, now that the inevitable had occurred: Draco realized how much was at stake, how much he was about to lose.

He'd accidently run into Granger at the Leaky Cauldron tonight, he also unfortunately happened to be slightly drunk, and on his arm he displayed a ditsy, scantily-clad witch. Granger took one look at him, and although she attempted to be polite, he could see her annoyance and ire bleeding through. She brushed passed them and headed straight for the end of the bar.

Draco decided in that moment, he would stay. He was only a _bit_ curious and for once it was brilliant to have the tables flipped. At least now she could see what it felt like for him, having to watch men lavish her with attention while he stood off to the side.

But Granger did not spare him and his vapidly annoying date a second glance. Draco listened to the chit drone on as she slugged sickly sweet drinks, but he kept his eyes on Granger the entire time. She was working, of course, and didn't look up again until her second drink was finished and someone called out her name.

Draco felt his neck snap around in alarm. It was a warm voice, one filled with excitement and promise. He turned back to Granger, her face was lit with joyful surprise as she jumped off her stool and held her arms out in embrace.

A man with a long pony tale, dressed completely in black, with shit-kicking, dragon skin boots and a fang earring, lifted her clear off the floor and into a suffocating hug. Granger laughed as she buried her face into his neck and pulled him closer.

Draco could no longer hear anything Brandy or Bobby or whatever the fuck her name was saying. He could sense nothing but impending doom as the stranger spun around and Draco felt his half-frozen heart sink even lower—

Bill Fucking Weasley: the curse-breaker, mauled by a werewolf yet somehow, still ridiculously good looking and charming.

They broke apart as he kissed her hand and joined her at the bar.

Draco watched them for hours, he watched until he felt like his eyes were bleeding and he'd drank half the bar, yet still he had to see how this played out. It was looking very likely that he finally met his match. What was it she saw in the eldest Weasley? Adventure, excitement? He certainly looked arrogant, and…Draco paused, realizing quite suddenly that he was a Pureblood. Granger didn't care, did she? So then it didn't matter.

So what did matter?

It was at this point, his date realized he was a lost cause and stormed huffily from the bar after being ignored for two hours straight. Draco threw back the last of his drink just as Granger finally looked up at him.

They locked eyes.

He sneered at her for good measure, as if to show her he was disgusted by her choice. It was the first time he'd done such a thing, as he acknowledged the bitter jealousy that was eating away at his insides. But then again, she'd never shown interest like this in all the ones before.

She stared back at him in defiance. He could feel her heat, the taunt in her gaze. Then Granger did something that had him out of his seat and across the bar in three seconds flat.

She turned to Bill and reached for his face, bringing his lips down to her own.

Any semblance of patience Draco Malfoy possessed in that moment, evaporated into thin air.

Before he could control the impulse, he was at her side and hauling her to her feet. Bill began to protest as Draco threw him a look that could stop a Dementor and all but dragged Granger through the crowded bar and outside into the street.

He flung her from him and watched as she staggered across the wet cobblestones. The rain was coming down in misty torrents.

"What is your problem!?" she raged, flinging her wet hair back off of her face. "Why did you do that?"

"My problem? My problem is you, Granger," he snarled, advancing on her with a sneer slapped across his handsome face.

"I don't understand," she hesitated.

"Actually I'm almost certain that you do." His eyes were dark with vengeance.

She waited, refusing to meet his gaze.

"What the hell was that?" he raged.

"What was what?"

"You throwing yourself at _another _Weasley," he snapped and took savage glee in the fact that his comments infuriated her.

"I don't _throw_ myself at anyone. And I hardly think it's your concern how I spend my free time-"

Her disinterested tone made the blood pound in his brain.

"Of course it's my concern! I'm your partner. I don't need everyone thinking you're unstable."

She stared at him with astonishment.

"Unstable? What about my behavior constitutes as unstable, Malfoy?"

"Clearly you are insane if you consider slobbering all over a Weasley in public to be _stable behavior_," he hissed with disgust.

"Oh, but getting absolutely wasted with a twenty-year old witch who has the IQ of a flobberworm is acceptable?"

"It's different."

"Of course it is. You're a man, so it's completely acceptable."

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Dammit Granger, you're really pissing me off."

"How's that?"

"Do you know how long I've had to watch you follow this stupid pattern?" he shouted, realizing too late what he was actually saying.

"What pattern?" she frowned.

Draco knew he should shut the fuck up, but he was too enraged to care.

"You spin your web, draw in the flies and then devour them. You're a bloody Acromantula!"

She looked highly affronted at his assessment.

"I most certainly am not!" she defended, stepping even closer to him.

He saw wild fire engulfing her orbs as he pressed passionately on, "and so they go, dropping to their knees in worship and over and over again you push them away. It's just some game to you, isn't it?" he seethed, trying to block out the burning image of her lips on anyone other than himself.

She scoffed with the upmost contempt.

"Funny, it sounds like you are describing your own actions. All one has to do is pick up a paper to hear about your latest conquest."

Draco chose to ignore the hypocrisy he was unloading.

"It's different."

His stubborn reluctance to be straight with her sorely grated on her nerves.

"How so!?" she raged back, shoving him in the chest. "How is it _any_ different?"

"Because you impossible witch, I care! I bloody care! All right? I can't stand it anymore. And it's different because I might as well be invisible to you!"

He took a deep breath. She watched his face carefully as the rain continued to pour, soaking them to the bone. She let out a great sigh.

"Malfoy, you are anything but invisible."

Her voice sounded forlorn, as if she wished he were. It refueled his anger instantaneously.

"Right. So why them?" he demanded.

"Why who?"

He began ticking off his elegant fingers with a fierce scowl.

"This one and that one and Potter and Zabini and Theo and Krum and Weasley. Why them!?"

"If you've noticed, it's never been them, any of them!" her voice held a tone of wonder in it. "You have noticed, _clearly_."

Draco felt his cheekbones flame with color.

"Then why do you do it?" he argued.

"Why do I do what? Date? Explore attraction?" she snarled sarcastically.

He growled low in the back of his throat, wanting nothing more than to make her his in this very second.

"Must you be so impossible?"

"Only following suit," she insisted as she crossed her arms and gave him an icy glare.

"You know what, Granger? Fine. Don't answer my questions."

She threw her head back and laughed with disbelief. Draco tried not to focus on how beautiful she looked in that moment.

"You haven't asked me anything worth answering! Merlin, Draco! I never thought you were this much of a coward," she snapped, turning on her heel to head back into the bar.

This was his chance, this was it. If he didn't move now, surely she would never give him another chance. With every fiber of his being, going against every instinct to protect himself from the inevitable, he reached out for her pulling her harshly into his arms.

She gasped as their chests slapped together and his hand came up to grasp her face. He looked down into her blazing eyes with fire of his own, forcing her to see the truth, willing her to accept the man he'd become all because of this love, yes it was love, for her.

And she must have seen it, but Draco was too lost to care as he dragged her lips to his and drunk her like he was dying of thirst. Her mouth moved back with urgency, her hands running down his soaked skin as she pulled him even closer. He could not breathe, he could not think, only one thing mattered and it was this woman letting him in. She pulled back suddenly, her forehead leaning against his as she took a deep ragged breath.

"You absolute fool. I've been waiting for you to do that forever."

"Forever?" he asked, tasting her on his tongue.

"Well, no, but longer than I care to admit," she muttered, still breathless from their connection.

"You have no idea," he groaned as his hands ran down her sides, feeling her soft curves.

She leaned up and pressed her lips to his once more.

"Don't ever make me wait for you again, Malfoy."

"Patience is bitter, Granger," his whispered, feeling as if his heart were throbbing with completion. "But its fruit, is so incredibly sweet."


End file.
